


By Their Own Design

by ShellytheShark



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Bossman Irihata, Designer Akaashi, Designer Hanamaki, Everyone Is Gay, Intern Kindaichi, M/M, Model Kenma, Model Kuroo, Model Oikawa, New Chapter Every Wednesday, Photographer Bokuto, Photographer Lev, Wednesday Because Makki’s Hair is Pink and We Wear Pink on Wednesdays, Writer Matsukawa, photographer Iwaizumi, tags will be updated with every chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-01-11 01:33:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18420086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShellytheShark/pseuds/ShellytheShark
Summary: Fashion Industry AU. Designers, Models, Photographers, Writers, Magazine Editors, and many more.New chapter every Wednesday.Temporary hiatus.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I’m not in the fashion industry and I only have relatively basic knowledge, so please forgive any mistakes I might make about the fashion industry. I just thought it would be a fun AU to put everyone in. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Thanks again to LyreForSyren, who proofread this for me. You’re the best!

Hanamaki was so screwed. He was supposed to have his designs ready for today. Scratch that, he  _ needed _ to have his designs ready for today.

It was his own fault. He knew indulging Oikawa was a bad idea, but he did anyways and ended up blackout drunk on Oikawa’s couch. But it wasn’t the model’s fault. Hanamaki had made his own bed, and now it was time for him to lie in it. If only that bed had been quieter—his head felt like it might actually explode.

He was in the middle of trying to sneak to his workspace undetected when he heard his boss ask him the dreaded question.

“Makki, are the designs ready yet? I’d like to see them on my desk within the hour.”

Frozen in place, he tried to come up with a good response.  _ Should I try to make an excuse? Ask for some extra time? Try my best to make the deadline and talk with Irihata when I don’t? He’s right here, I could try to explain to him now.  _

Before he could respond, Irihata was distracted by the new intern who ran over, asking Irihata about some model mishap or another.  _ What was his name? Kindaichi? Yeah, I think it’s Kindaichi _ .

Hanamaki used the distraction as an excuse to head over to his workplace, sinking into his seat and staring at his sketchpad as if staring at it would make it magically fill up with the designs that he needed. Well, the ones that he wanted.

He  _ had _ the designs; they just weren’t good. He had wanted to fix and improve them before turning them in to Irihata for approval. Then again, Hanamaki had always been hard on himself—that’s what everyone always told him. 

_ Maybe I should have someone else take a look at the designs and offer their opinion. Then I could either turn them in or ask for an extension to revise them. _

Deciding to follow his plan, he walked over to his neighbor’s workspace and slowly slid his notebook across the table.

“Hey, can you—”

“No, Makki,” came the quick reply.

“What? Why?”

“Because I have my own designs to finish up,” sighed Akaashi as he continued to sketch what Hanamaki presumed to be the aforementioned designs.

“I just want you to look over them. Please?”

Akaashi looked up at him, took in his clearly hungover state, and must have found it in his heart to pity foolish Hanamaki. “Fine, hand them over,” he resigned, holding out his hand for Hanamaki’s sketches.

Grinning in triumph, Hanamaki set them in Akaashi’s hand. “Thanks for looking at them. I wanted a second set of eyes.”

Humming his half-hearted response, Akaashi flipped through the sketchbook, making sure to give each sketch his undivided attention. 

“They’re all good, but I don’t like this one. It looks good in the design, but it’ll be awkward when people actually go to wear it,” he tapped one of the designs towards the end. “Scrap that one and turn the rest in. You might want to clean up the first two before you do; they’re a bit messy.”

Taking his sketchbook, Hanamaki blew him a kiss to express his gratitude, laughing when Akaashi rolled his eyes—and then immediately regretting it when a piercing throb shot through his skull again.  _ Ouch. _

Akaashi took back the sketchbook. “Go sit down and take it easy, Makki. I’ll take your designs to Irihata for you. The first two are a bit messy, but it’s nothing major,” he said in his usual soft spoken voice. 

Hanamaki shot him a grateful smile in return and went back to his workspace.  _ Akaashi may not always seem like he’s interested, but he sure is a good friend to have around. He really does care about those around him, and he’s always observing. _

 

* * *

 

When Akaashi turned Hanamaki’s designs into Irihata, he was not prepared to be sent on yet another task.

“Akaashi, could you do me a favor and run these downstairs to the photoshoot?” Irihata asked as he held out a different stack of papers. “Kindaichi is swamped with all his tasks, and I’d really hate to add another job for the kid to complete.”

“Uh, sure,” was his hesitant reply as he took them. He didn’t like going to the photoshoots much. There was something about them that made him uneasy.

When he got there, he immediately recalled what that something was.

“It’s  _ him _ ! The pretty boy!” 

Those were the first words he registered when the door shut with a loud thud and the low buzz of conversation momentarily paused as everyone’s eyes drifted over to watch Akaashi for a few moments before returning to what they had previously been doing.

There was one set of eyes, however, that did not return back to what they had been doing before Akaashi stepped through the doors—the eyes that belonged to the same body as the voice that had greeted him. The something that made him uneasy.

_ Curse Makki for making me feel bad for him and take his sketches to Irihata.  _ The worst of it was that he couldn’t even really blame Hanamaki—he was here by his own design.

Trying to ignore the person who was now in front of him, Akaashi looked for Ukai so that he could pass off whatever papers Irihata had handed to him. Tried and failed.

The persistent figure in front of him let out a whine and stepped closer, golden eyes trying to make contact with Akaashi’s blue-gray ones. “At least tell me your name this time.”

“No,” he said as he attempted to step around the much larger man. Unfortunately, that only put him in the line of sight of his new form of torment.

“Akaashi! What are you doing down here?! I didn’t see you earlier!” Kuroo said as he walked over.

“So your name is Akaashi? I like it!”

Kuroo stared at him in bewilderment. “You didn’t know his name was Akaashi, Bokuto?”

The so-called Bokuto shook his head, and Akaashi couldn’t help but look at his hair while he did so. How did he get them like that without putting way too much gel in it?

Now that he knew his name, Bokuto continued on with his mission.

“You’re too pretty to not work here. Are you here to apply for a position?” Bokuto continued to inspect Akaashi, who shifted under his gaze.

Kuroo responded for him. “Akaashi isn’t a model, he’s one of the designers in the building.”

“Really?! Well, you should let me take pictures of you in your designs then! You’d look great!”

Before he could respond, Akaashi was blinded by a sudden flash in his face, and he instinctively stepped back, covering his face with the hand that was holding the papers. Correction. Had been holding the papers—the papers that were now scattered all over the floor thanks to Bokuto’s decision to shine a camera’s flash in his eyes.

Huffing in annoyance, Akaashi turned towards Kuroo.

“Make sure Ukai gets those,” was his sharp command towards Kuroo before he quickly turned and walked out, not taking any care to make sure the door shut quietly.


	2. Chapter 2

As soon as Akaashi stepped out of the room, he ducked into the nearest bathroom, trying to still his racing heart. Leaning his head against the door, he silently cursed at himself. Bokuto made him too nervous. He didn’t know how to act around him, so he became defensive.  _ He’s the entire reason I came to work here, but I’m nothing but mean to him. Maybe I should ask Hanamaki for help since Kuroo is no help. Kuroo is the embodiment of evil—he knows how I feel about Bokuto, but offers no help. Maybe I could ask Kenma to get Kuroo to help me. Kuroo always listens to Kenma. _

 

* * *

 

Kenma heard the photographer, he just chose not to acknowledge him. 

“Kenma, please let me practice taking pictures of you.”

“Nothing is stopping you from taking pictures of me like this, Lev,” he said as he focused on his video game.

Lev was the newest addition to the photography team—as an intern. However, Lev didn’t seem to understand the fact that he was an intern and not the head of the photography division. He wanted to be the best of the best, and, in Kenma’s opinion, he relied too much on his sheer talent. Yaku also shared the belief that Lev didn’t try to develop his talents as much as he should.

“But I want to take pictures of you posing and I want to pose you, otherwise I’m not really practicing, I’m just pushing a button,” was Lev’s response.

Sighing, Kenma sat up and looked at him. “A good photographer could make it work.”

“How?”

Kenma looked over to where Kuroo and Bokuto were talking before looking back to Lev. “Ask Bokuto,” he said as he laid back down and resumed his video game. He was vaguely aware of Bokuto talking to Lev as they walked back to him.

“Part of being a great photographer is knowing the strengths of each of the models, Lev. For example, Kenma is best when it comes to natural poses. Sometimes posing him in positions that he finds unnatural is one of the worst things that you could do. If he feels uncomfortable, then the pictures come out stiff.” Kenma heard the shutter of the camera as Bokuto took a few pictures of him. “See? He looks natural, and the picture looks genuine. To set yourself apart, you can try different angles and lighting and such, but it’s best to make sure Kenma is comfortable with what he’s doing. That’s why he’s so great for shots that are supposed to look like everyday people wearing their clothes and going about their business.”

Throwing his arm around Kuroo, Bokuto continued on, “Kuroo, on the other hand, will do almost anything you want him to do.”

Laughing, Kuroo leaned down and pressed a kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead. Startled, Kenma looked up at him, a light blush dusting across his cheeks before he registered the sound of his character dying in the video game. Groaning, he let his head hit the ground. “Kuroo, I was about to win,” he said in dismay. 

Seeing the way Kuroo looked down at him and brushed Kenma’s hair away from his eyes so that he could properly see his small boyfriend made Kenma’s heart skip a beat. 

“Sorry, Kenma, I didn’t mean to.”

Kenma smiled a bit and mumbled his forgiveness, looking at Bokuto when he realized that he was taking pictures of them.

Bokuto simply grinned at him. “What?”

Noticing the blush on Kenma’s face and realizing that Bokuto was the source of that blush, Kuroo grabbed the nearest prop and chucked it at him. “Leave my boyfriend alone, paparazzi. I better not see those in some gossip magazine.”

“I would never lower my standards that far,” Bokuto said, clearly amused.

“What are we lowering our standards for?” asked Oikawa as he walked up to the group.

Bokuto threw his arm around him when he got close enough. “Nothing, just saying how I would never lower my standards enough to allow my pictures to be published in a gossip magazine. 

Oikawa chuckled, “Very true.” Plopping down next to Kenma, he threw his feet across Kuroo’s lap. “Kuroo, dear, won’t you be a doll and relieve the excruciating pain in my feet?”

Laughing, Kuroo shoved his feet off. “Sure, if you want me to cut them off,” he said, arching an eyebrow threateningly. 

Rolling into a sitting position, Oikawa pulled Kenma in front of him as a makeshift shield. “You would never, not when I have the thing you treasure most in my clutches.”

Daintily putting a hand against his chest, Kuroo gasped. “How dare you threaten Kenma. Kenma, bite him.”

“No,” was Kenma’s soft response as he resumed his game, now in Oikawa’s lap.

Oikawa laughed and stuck his tongue out at Kuroo, pulling at the skin under his eye as he did so. “He’s mine now,” he said, wrapping his arms around Kenma, who continued to play his video game.

Not particularly caring for the conversation the other boys struck up, Kenma focused all of his attention on the video game—until he felt Oikawa’s breath hitch. Glancing back at him in confusion, he followed Oikawa’s gaze to see a man with spiky hair speaking with Ukai.  _ Maybe he’s the new photographer. I heard we were supposed to get one today.  _

Kenma looked back at Oikawa and couldn’t help but smile a bit before leaning back against him and resuming his video game—only, this time, he was paying attention to Oikawa and the conversation. He was interested. Things seemed like they might liven up more than usual if Oikawa’s reaction to the newcomer was any indication of what was to come.

Kenma could feel himself growing excited—something that didn’t happen often. He was curious about what could happen, and he didn’t miss the smile that appeared on Kuroo’s face when he saw that Kenma was interested.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a late update, school has been crazy.

Still in a great mood from his exploits with Hanamaki the night prior, Oikawa waltzed into the studio. Chuckling to himself, he pictured Hanamaki—who had drunkenly passed out on his couch—suffering at his desk as he nursed a hangover. Despite what his best friend thought, he could not hold his liquor. Oikawa, on the other hand, had an extremely high tolerance and knew his own limits. He took care in the image that he projected, and he wasn’t going to allow a meaningless drink to ruin that. And for that very reason, he was in a good mood while Hanamaki suffered in pain from his bad decisions.

Humming a tune that had gotten stuck in his head, Oikawa spotted Bokuto talking with the newest photography intern, Lev, near Kuroo and Kenma. When he walked over, he joined in the conversation before Bokuto threw his arm around him. After awhile, Lev wandered off—probably bored of their conversation—and Oikawa let himself loosen up and have fun. Not to mention that he was currently using Kenma as some sort of therapy cat as he held him in his lap.

Their relationship was an odd—and unexpected—friendship. At first, Oikawa had been annoyed by his lack of interest and effort, but he soon learned that Kenma’s lack of action didn’t necessarily mean that he was any less involved or interested in what was going on or what he was doing. Once he had made that realization, Kenma quickly grew on him. Though, even if they hadn’t become so close, they still would have known each other since Oikawa and Kuroo had quickly bonded when Kuroo and Kenma had first come on as new models. Bokuto and Oikawa had already been friends, but the addition of Kuroo to the already mischievous pair had brought them closer together as well as opened up new opportunities for mischief.

Smiling, Oikawa watched Kenma fight whatever boss in whatever videogame he was currently playing from over his head, the smaller boy tucked snugly against him with his head resting back against Oikawa’s shoulder. He was still actively participating in the conversation, but he found it soothing to watch Kenma play. Video games weren’t necessarily Oikawa’s passion, but he did enjoy playing them and watching Kenma and others play them as well. 

Oikawa’s attention had been dutifully divided between the conversation and the video game until an unfamiliar voice caught his attention. Glancing over, his eyes landed upon an  _ extremely _ good looking man who had a camera hanging from around his neck. 

_ Is he the new photographer? I hope he is. I wouldn’t mind having him take pictures of me. Or order me around. Hopefully his personality is as good as his looks, though, because a sour personality is always the one thing that ruins a perfectly attractive person—and happens to be one of my dealbreakers. _

He hadn’t realized that his breath had hitched until he realized that Kenma was looking at him with piqued curiosity. Then he saw Kuroo’s devilish grin and knew he was done for.  _ At least Bokuto’s oblivious—he doesn’t even know that Akaashi is harboring a major crush on him. Though, it’s not like they interact much, so I don’t blame him for not noticing.  _

“Somebody interested in the new guy?” asked Kuroo with and arched brow. 

“Shut it, Cat,” he shot back.

“Hmmm… I could call him over and—”

“No,” came the soft interruption from Kenma.

Oikawa looked down at Kenma in surprise while Kuroo blinked and looked at him.

“What? Why?” Kurro asked, bewildered.

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because it’s more interesting if you don’t,” he replied before diverting his attention back to his video game.

Oikawa didn’t necessarily like the sound of that either. Bokuto, however, did.

“We should place bets,” the owlish boy said.

Kuroo looked at him. “On what?”

“How long it takes for them to get together. Or for them to attempt to get together. Since the other party may not be interested. Closest bet wins the money.”

Grinning, Kuroo made a note in his phone with the details. “You’re on.”

Oikawa groaned. “Could you guys  _ not  _ place bets on my love life? I don’t appreciate it.”

Without looking up from his game, Kenma spoke, “You can’t let Oikawa hear the bets, otherwise he might act in spite of one of us.”

“‘Us’? What do you mean ‘us’, Kenma? You’re betting on my love life, too?” Oikawa asked in mock offense, touching his chest with his hand and letting out a dainty, offended gasp.

“Yes,” he replied as he moved off Oikawa and into Kuroo’s lap, snuggling against him and smiling when Kuroo wrapped his arms around him.

Oikawa scoffed. “None of you are my friends anymore,” he said as he pouted and crossed his arms. “Fine, place your bets.”

He watched incredulously as they typed in their bets on Kuroo’s phone and set their amounts. Looking over at the new photographer, he could tell that this would be interesting.

 

* * *

 

Matsukawa hummed to himself as he walked through the hallway to the area where Hanamaki worked.  _ Today will be the day. I’m finally going to ask Makki out.  _

However, what he didn’t expect to see was Hanamaki hunched over his desk, nursing what was either a massive headache or a hangover. Leaning against his desk, he looked down at him. “Late night partying?”

Hanamaki looked up at him and winced. “Yeah, but it’s my fault. I let Oikawa talk me into drinks last night.”

Matsukawa internally sighed. Though they had never said it, he was sure that Oikawa and Hanamaki were an item—the tabloid magazines thought so as well—and it was the main thing that had held him back from asking Hanamaki out. He knew that he should just ask Hanamaki if they were an item, but he didn’t want to pry if they were, and he didn’t want Hanamaki to be offended if they weren’t together. He didn’t want Hanamaki to think that he trusted gossip magazines over him. 

“Seems like you had fun, though.”

Hanamaki grinned at him. “Oh, trust me, I did.”

If they weren’t a couple, then Hanamaki sure sent mixed signals. Or maybe he was just overanalyzing and trying to read into things that just weren’t there. 

“You should come with us next time, Matsun,” he said as he sifted through some papers. “It would be fun. If you had someone you wanted to bring, they could come with.”

For a moment, Matsukawa had thought Hanamaki wanted him to go with  _ him _ , but he apparently was wrong. Hanamaki simply didn’t want Matsukawa to feel left out, and Matsukawa admired him all the more for it, but he didn’t want to be Hanamaki’s friend. He wanted to be his boyfriend.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry this chapter is so late! This week has been really crazy, and today has been an overall wreck, and writing a chapter for this just slipped my mind. 
> 
> Again, sorry for this late (and short) chapter, but I hope to make it up to you with the next one.

Hanamaki felt like an idiot—a foolish idiot. He was trying to find the balance between not scaring Matsukawa off and dropping hints that he liked him, and he was pretty sure that he was failing. Okay, more than sure.

Though, Matsukawa _had_ agreed to come with them, _and_ he had said that he would probably come alone—to which Hanamaki said “sounds great”—so maybe Matsukawa _did_ get the message.

However, he had bigger fish to fry when Akaashi glowered at him as he walked to his desk and sat down.

“Akaashi, what’s up?” He asked as he kicked off of his desk, propelling his rolling chair across the office space and over to Akaashi’s desk.

“You owe me,” Akaashi said as he moped in his chair.

Hanamaki poked Akaashi’s forehead. “Yeah, for turning my designs in for me. I knew that.”

“No, you owe me double. Irihata sent me down to the photoshoot and I made a fool of myself in front of Bokuto-san.”

Hanamaki chuckled. “I love that you call him that. Besides, it can’t be that bad, right?”

“It’s awful, Makki. He probably thinks I’m stuck up or something. I was a complete jerk to him.”

“Oh. I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” he prompted hopefully.

“I ignored him, refused to tell him my name, basically threw the papers Irihata gave to me at him, told him to clean it up, and then left while letting the doors slam behind me,” Akaashi said with a sigh.

Hanamaki winced.

“Exactly,” Akaashi groaned.

“Hey, you should invite him out with Oikawa and me. I invited Matsun, so you can invite Bokuto. Or I’ll go invite him for you.”

“Yes. You go invite him for me. Please. That’s my favor. You have to go invite him for me and then fix me so I can talk to him like a proper human being,” Akaashi said, leaning back in his chair, looking content.

“Fine,” Hanamaki said with a sigh that was half exasperation and half amusement.

The next thing he knew, he was heading towards the photoshoot to invite Bokuto on behalf of Akaashi.

The first thing he noticed upon entering was that Oikawa looked utterly _smitten_ , and the object of his gaze was an attractive, spiky-haired man with a camera slung around his neck.

He made a mental note of his observation as he looked for Bokuto. Spotting him, he walked over.

“Hey, Bokuto, I have a message for you.”

The owlish boy looked up. “Hm? What is it, Makki?”

“The dark haired boy named Akaashi who may or may not have just been down here a little bit ago and now feels awful about the way he acted would like to invite you as his plus one for the next time Oikawa and I get drinks. It’ll be you, Akaashi, maybe Kuroo and Kenma, Oikawa, someone else if all goes well, Matsun, and me,” he said, offering Bokuto a smile.

Bokuto’s eyes lit up. “He really wanted to invite me?”

“Yep,” Hanamaki said with a smirk.

“I’d love to!” Bokuto enthusiastically accepted, grinning from ear to ear with a slight blush present on his cheeks.

“Good. I’ll let you know next time we plan on going out.”

Bokuto grinned triumphantly. “Okay!”

Hanamaki then made his way over to the attractive, spiky-haired man. By the time Oikawa registered that Hanamaki was next to the man and pieced together what Hanamaki was about to do, it was far, _far_ too late to stop him without causing an even bigger scene.

“Hi, I’m Hanamaki,” he said, offering the man his hand.

“Iwaizumi,” he responded as he shook Hanamaki’s hand.

_Man, his grip is strong. Oikawa will like that, no doubt._

“You’re the new photographer, right?” he asked as he studied him.

Iwaizumi nodded. “I am.”

“Well, I’d like to invite you to a little get-together that will be happening soon. Six to eight of us will be there if you come.”

“I don’t see why not,” Iwaizumi said, a smile tugging at his lips.

Hanamaki winked at him. “I’m spoken for, by the way, so don’t get your hopes up. Well, I’m not yet, but I will be soon.”

Iwaizumi chuckled. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Hanamaki could have sworn that he saw Iwaizumi’s gaze shift to Oikawa, but he couldn’t be sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, look at Makki, the little devilish matchmaker... The real question is whether or not his efforts will pay off.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I’m sorry for giving you guys (another) short chapter this week. Exams, exam crunch time, and all that “fun” stuff has been this week, so its been kinda hard to fit writing into all that. Next week should be a lot lighter school-wise, so I’ll have more time to write. I planned on this being a longer chapter, but I decided to move that chapter for next week and instead used this chapter as an opprotunity to set up a little bit more about each of the characters.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

When Oikawa saw the new photographer, Iwaizumi, walk into their meeting place the next day, he decided that he was going to kill Hanamaki. He just _knew_ that Iwaizumi being there was his doing. When he had asked Hanamaki what they had been talking about, he had said he just introduced himself, but Oikawa hadn’t believed it for even a millisecond.

Oikawa looked over at Kenma with an expression of vague concern. He was currently pressed between Akaashi and Kuroo in their large circular booth. Bokuto was next to Akaashi while Matsukawa was next to Kuroo. Hanamaki, of course, was sitting on the other side of Matsukawa, which left Oikawa at one end and Bokuto on the other. And, _miraculously_ , or, as Oikawa suspected was more likely, due to Hanamaki’s planning, the only place left for Iwaizumi to sit was next to Oikawa.

And, he was currently walking towards them. _Great._

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi tried to suppress the groan that tore from his chest when he saw Oikawa; he really did. All he really knew about the guy was that he was a complete and utter jerk. He was completely full of himself and utterly ridiculous. He was infamous within the modeling industry for being kind and charismatic, but Iwaizumi could spot fake charm a mile away. And, Oikawa had that fake charm. He was a pompous jerk who thought way too highly of himself for his own good.

And now he was going to be sitting next to him. A vague gut instinct told him that the pink haired man who invited him—Hanamaki—had something to do with the situation. Either him or the black bedhead with a grin like a devious cat’s—a grin that was currently aimed at him. He was sure that he was Kuroo, which would make the smaller person beside him Kenma. The two were an exclusive pair in every aspect. Long time friends-turned-lovers, they both entered the modeling industry with Kuroo acting as Kenma’s agent, manager, and bodyguard, underneath their real manager of course. Kuroo had a reputation of refusing to sign with anyone who refused to take Kenma as well. You had to sign both of them or neither of them, and Kuroo especially was a well sought-after model.

The pink-haired Hanamaki, who happened to be a well-known designer, was sitting next to a man that he could only assume was Matsukawa. Although he wasn’t a model, he certainly could be. Matsukawa was one of the most well-known writers in the fashion industry, and Iwaizumi recognized him from the picture that is always next to his articles.

 _The_ Bokuto Koutarou was sitting at the edge of the booth. Bokuto was widely accepted as _the_ best photographer within the fashion industry and had won numerous awards for his photos, both pertaining to fashion and not. Iwaizumi had been thrilled when he learned that he would be working with him.

Iwaizumi didn’t know the dark haired boy sitting between Bokuto and Kenma. He hadn’t seen him around at all, and he definitely didn’t know him from anywhere. He briefly wondered if he was a photographer that Bokuto had taken under his wing, but then dismissed the idea. The man was too pretty. He _had_ to be a model. Maybe he was a new, up-and-coming model or was simply someone Bokuto was working exclusively with. Either way, Iwaizumi was curious about the only person at the table that wasn’t known to him.

When he reached the booth, Hanamaki waved for him to sit down next to Oikawa, and he did so, doing his best to put distance between them.

Hanamaki grinned. “Okay, now that everyone is together. Everyone, this is Iwaizumi, the new photographer. Iwa, do you know everyone?”

“I know of everyone except for you,” he said, nodding at the man sitting next to Bokuto.

The man looked slightly startled. “Me? Oh, I’m—”

“Akaashi Keiji, only _the_ best designer around,” he finished for him. As an afterthought, he looked at Hanamaki. “No offense.”

Hanamaki laughed as he grinned, glancing at the now-blushing Akaashi.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said, and Iwaizumi was surprised at how soft his voice was. “I’m not the best. Not nearly that.”

Bokuto huffed and threw his arm around Akaashi. “No, yours are my favorite ones to photograph the models in. I just never knew who Akaashi was since I didn’t know your name until yesterday.

Hanamaki reached over Oikawa and clapped Iwaizumi on the back. “First round’s on you, okay?”

Iwaizumi nodded his acknowledgement.

This was going to be an interesting night.


End file.
